Nightsnack
by K4637
Summary: Grestophe. So far a oneshot, romantic and quite cheesy of one night they spend after they come back home from a trip to Washington. A few curse-words, and just a tiny bit of action/"action". R&R. Written with accent!


Nightsnack

(If there is something in your mind, check the bottom to see the AN if it could help you.)

Finally they were home. Gregory was exhausted by the drive and just hoped to get at least one cup of warm tea before going to bed. His ass as numb by the long drive - fucking eight hours! - and was screaming for a slight walk. They had been in a conference-meeting in Washington and all he ever had wanted was to go home. The feeling was mutual. Through the three hours of old men going over the same shit, Christophe had been muttering curses next to him, making it very hard to seem concentrated. When they had made back to the car, after declining an offer of free crappy hotel-night, they had been sitting in the back seat, Gregory's head against his shoulder and holding his hand. Christophe had smoked inside the car, Gregory didn't usually like it but at that moment the idea of cigarette-smoke was greeted with open arms. Almost every time someone smoked Gregory got a headache from it and it smelled awful. When Tophe smoked it smelled good. It could be some kind of a chemical reaction with his natural fragrance.

After an half an hour Christophe got to the driver's seat and started the car. They drove in silence, Gregory occasionally napping on the backseat. Tophe had been playing some old French classics and sung with the music. After six hours of driving that they had been gone through, Tophe had announced that he was tired and kicked Gregory to drive the rest of the journey home. Tophe had fallen asleep immediately, snoring lightly which kept a smile on Gregory's face. Gregory had changed the CD to his favourite classical music disc. Quiet opera kept him company while Tophe was visiting the dreamland.

When he saw the first lights of their town, he got anxious. He still was sleep-deprived and God damn it, if officer Barbrady was going to pull him over for some drunk-test. Not that lack of sleep ever had affected his driving but there is always a first time. The last ten minutes felt like two more hours to him and when he finally saw their house, he couldn't help but hit the gas and cruise perfectly to their open garage. Tophe woke up by the acceleration and seemed very out of it for the first few seconds. He had managed to keep his cool and not pull out his gun in the surprising situation; if it would have been two years before, Gregory would have a gun hopping around the car, looking for the enemy. Being a mercenary had really gotten into Tophe's nerves. Finally he had cut his missions only to U.S.A.-gigs and didn't travel abroad anymore. They did visit Britain and France many times a year, but more in a travelling-manner. They had visited Moscow once as well but it had ended up with some mobsters getting hints about them and trying to shoot them in the head.

Tophe had relaxed himself and just bumped his head against Gregory's head-rest from behind. Now they would have to get their luggage out of the trunk and into their house. Tophe opened the back door and stumbled out, Gregory soon following in a similar manner.

"A-ah! My back... Sheet. Zat was a bad snap..." Tophe cursed while popping his joints. Gregory took care of his body much gentler and rolled his shoulders and then his waist slowly.

"What are you tryeeng to do? Eemitate a hula-dancer?" Tophe gave him a snicker. Gregory just glared at him and kept on stretching.

"Tophe, open the trunk so we can take out the luggage", Gregory said to him. Christophe did as he was told and slammed the trunk open.

"TOPHE!"

"What? You told me to open eet so I deed..."

"Without waking the whole bloody neighbourhood! It's four in the morning!"

Christophe shrugged, took the bags and carried them to the porch. Gregory shut the trunk and locked the car, turned to stare at their house. It was very comfy for two grown men to live inside. They had painted the outside of the house last year's summer to wine red. The porch was dark brown with a little table and four chairs, and their little garden was surrounding their home symmetrically. They had four fully grown maple trees which were beautiful orange-red-green due in the autumn, but now in bud. Gregory was very fond of his berry-bushes and Christophe very fond of the jams, juices and pies he made. Inside of the house was tastefully decorated by Gregory, because he was the only one with esthetical eye. Their walls were warmly cream-colored with dark brown wood-panelling and only Tophe's 'play'room hadn't met Gregory's 'womanly' touch as Tophe liked to say. Gregory didn't feel offended by this; he didn't actually feel very manly or womanly. As long as he was a person he was fine.

Tophe's dear little playroom consisted of his guns, ropes, shovelcase, etc. The only thing that wasn't held there was Tophe's shovel. It had an honorary place in their bedroom; Gregory didn't mind it being on top of his head, attached to the wall. The shovel was a saint thing to Christophe so Gregory let it be, just like Christophe let his old sword and La Resistance-flag be. They held a mutual understandment between them: As long as the other didn't touch the other treasure, the other wouldn't touch the other's treasure.

Christophe had already taken their bag to their bedroom where Gregory would empty them tomorrow. He put the last one down and bended over his stomach because of the painful growl it made.

"Gregory? I assume you won't make food anymore today, so ees eet okay to order somezeeng?" Christophe asked when he heard the door shut. Gregory made an approving noise and Christophe came back downstairs.

"What would you like, love?" Christophe asked and held Gregory in his arms from behind. Gregory placed his hands over Christophe's, taking support and kicked his shoes off.

"Hm... Not pizza... Chinese... Spicy noodles and good old tea. Is that fine with you?" Gregory asked chewing on his lip and turning his head to look Christophe in the eyes. Tophe smiled to him and kissed his nose.

"Of course. I'll go wake zem up to cook my leettle fairy some noodles. You can go brew that tea, so eet'll be ready." Christophe gave him another kiss on the lips and untangled his arms from Gregory. Gregory smiled to him and made his way to their kitchen. To make good tea it took actually a quite a long time for it to be good.

Christophe went through the menus beside the phone; he had one specific in his mind.

"Aha, found you leettle bastard!" Christophe declared to piece of paper.

"Did you say something?" Gregory asked from the kitchen. Christophe smiled to himself and answered:

"No, nothing. I was just talkeeng by myself."

"Mm-hmm…"Gregory came to the door with a thoughtful look on his face.

"What?" Tophe asked in turn. Gregory gave him a shining smile and said:

"You're just so cute when you act so dumb." Christophe muttered a curse under his breath and dialled the number of the restaurant.

"Hello..?" muttered a sleepy voice, which actually belonged to Clyde who had the nightshift in City Wok. He had become such an addict on caffeine because of his night-time job that he almost reached to the same level with Tweek. Not that it was such a great accomplishment to him, it was just a reminder how he had ended up with his latest job. Because of his never ending love for tacos, he had started up with the town's taco-place, but unfortunately all those tacos going through his hands caused a pent up hunger for them. He had taken the customer's taco from the plate and munched it in utter bliss. That of course had gotten him fired and he still needed a job, he had ended up in City Wok, after an oath not to eat customer's food.

"Morning. Chow Mein with Cheng Du Chicken and Yangchow Fried Rice. You should know where we leeve Clyde. Eef you can't remember, zere's the address-book below the counter. Eet should be eezer under D or T", Christophe chatted cheerfully, most of what he said passing through Clyde's ears. Clyde squinted his eyes shut, trying to wake himself up more, muttering to the phone:

"Hold on a second Christophe, I'll write it down... Where's the fucking pen again..?"

Christophe snickered on the other end. It was such fun to listen when other people are dead tired and you yourself are all "rise and shine people!"

"Chow Mein... Cheng Du Chicken... Yangchow... Anything else?" Clyde asked, yawning loud.

"No, zank you. The door ees open when you come, you can come right eenside. See you soon", Christophe ended the call, heading to the kitchen where the teapot was whistling. On the other side of the town, Clyde slammed his head to the counter, finally waking to the unintended pain.

"The tea is almost ready, could you set the cups? Is Clyde coming here soon?" Gregory questioned when Tophe entered the kitchen. Christophe hummed to himself, and snickered:

"He might take a couple more meenutes than normal; he sounded like he was just about to pass out on the phone."

"Poor lad. It must be hard on him, studying on days, working at nights. I'll give him a cup of tea so he won't fall asleep behind the wheel. Did you know that driving sleepy can be even more dangerous than drunk-driving?" Gregory chatted while shutting the stove off and taking the kettle to the table. Christophe handed him a cup, Gregory pouring the tea in it skilfully, he hadn't been practising these kinds of things for nothing! Christophe added a sugar cube into his cup and took a careful sip. Gregory poured him his own tea without any sweet, mixing it with a spoon and inhaled the steam. His throat had been feeling a bit raspy for a while now, and to soothe it, it was an old trick to breath in hot steam. As the steam curled around his face, warming it and the fragrance of the drink rising to his nose, he felt himself relaxing. Tea was a miracle worker, easing one's nerves by not just drinking it but smelling and feeling the warmth between one's hands. Christophe watched him close his eyes, smiling to himself blissfully. A question popped into his mind, completely out of blue, already making its way out of his mouth before he even had the chance to think more about it:

"Are you happy?"

Gregory, still a bit captivated on his moment, opened his eyes slowly. He stared at Christophe for a moment before answering:

"Yes, I would say I'm happy", he said slowly, "but why are you asking? It isn't like you to think about those things."

Christophe shrugged, not knowing either, sipping his tea. Gregory leaned over the table, a little interested behind the reason for this deep thought.

"What about you, are you happy?"

"Hmm... Zat ees really a hard question. Even zough I can't really justeefy my reasoning, I'd say I'm happy. I'm happy to be here, to be wiz you, to wait for the food, once Clyde gets hees lazy ass here, happy dreenkeeng zees tea, leeve een zees house, be back home, have a place to call home, have someone to share thees home with me, have someone to love and to love me back... I don't zeenk I have anything more to ask for... ozer than future well-being for the boz of us. I'm happy", Christophe ended oblivious to the dreamy smile on Gregory's face. He had sounded - in Gregory's opinion - so deep and touching that it had caused the blonde's insides go all fuzzy. It was very rare for Christophe to talk in this way, maybe it was the upcoming spring that caused him to lighten up as well, so Gregory enjoyed as best as he could of the romantic and undeniably cheesy stuff Christophe was letting through his lips. Gregory had always had a soft spot for romantic stuff, not those stupid, over-dramatic movies but romantic novels, poems, all those - usually considered lame - things Christophe ended up regretting for ever saying out loud to him... He loved those affectionate words and touches, cliché of roses on anniversaries, or breakfast in the bed when it was his birthday. Those usually ended with Christophe messing up the kitchen, he had a congenital way of creating a mess, but those croissants... Those absolutely _magnificent _croissants he created were able to make up any kind of a mess, apart from blowing up the whole house. Christophe was a magician with French pastries, but only used his god-blessed gift on special occasions, which were _extremely _rare, maybe three times a year. Maybe it was just good thing, considering all the scrubbing and wiping it followed.

The unnoticed silence was broken by the soft pling of the doorbell and the opening and closing door.

"Hello to the house! Didn't know you guys were back again. What's up?" asked the again wide awake Clyde, who popped his head in from the kitchen door. Christophe stood up to take the packages from his hands and placed them on the table, sitting down again, already fishing the chopsticks from their pack. Gregory greeted Clyde, and motioned him to sit down with them.

"We just arrived, half an hour ago, drove through the whole night from that bloody conference. I don't mean to rude, but that really was something too dry to be from this world. Please, do take some tea, here's a cup. What about here, anything interesting happen, while we were away?" Gregory shot the question back. Clyde took up on the offering and poured a huge amount of the tea to his cup, obviously being in big need of caffeine.

"Same old as ever. Wendy's been all out on the newest interest - gay rights - of her and wants you to join; you are the only fags in the town, so she's desperate. Everyone had to promise to try ad persuade you two to give into the idea. Does a full-time Pride-weekend sound interesting?" Clyde tried, not very efficiently, knowing the negative answer to be definite. Christophe lowered his hand that held his sticks to the half-eaten bowl, terrified look in his eyes, pleading Gregory not to let the over-enthusiastic psycho woman have her way. He hated those kinds of partying-things: All those drunken people, screaming, possible police-arrests not to be mentioned... One time in the wrong place at the wrong time, and their asses would be flying behind bars, lawsuits raining on them like water drops. Gregory knew that the police wasn't uppermost in Christophe's mind: He had a fear for drunken people. Those staggering, violent mad people had traumatized him in his childhood enough to scar him for life, and were the only thing he feared more than dogs. Gregory and he had been taking care of not staying in bars late, before the squiffy men and women could affect him. One soak here or there didn't matter, but when basically everyone was completely sloshed around him, he was not okay for many hours. He didn't touch alcohol normally, only when he was obligated to drink a gulp of Champaign or wine.

"If you see Wendy before us, you can tell we refuse. Add that it's final", Gregory said sternly, rubbing his foot comfortingly against Christophe's ankle. He snapped out of his thoughts, relief washing over his face in just a second. Clyde, oblivious to the happenings around him, gulped the last of the impressively strong tea down, rose up from his seat, ready continue his work-shift.

"I still have to go back to swipe the floor. Remember to leave me a good tip Gregory", Clyde winked, watching the blond fish for a bill from their food-money jar. Gregory handed him a fifty, telling him to keep the rest, receiving an awed and grateful glance from Clyde. Christophe and Gregory bid their goodbye and watched from the kitchen window him bounce on their road, towards his car. Gregory finally started eating his own food, opening the carton package, munching the spicy noodles and chicken down. He was defined as a man so he was able to eat without chewing, finishing quickly. Christophe had already ended his meal, throwing the single-use bowl and sticks to the trash bin. He took a refill cup and washed down a vitamin-pill, Gregory insisted them to use those in winter, and according to him it was still winter enough to keep on using them.

"Haah... There is no better feeling, than feeling full", Gregory muttered to himself. Christophe had a suggestive remark to the sentence, but decided to keep it to himself. He wasn't sure if Gregory had the energy to argue about his never sleeping hornyness or not. Better play it safe.

"I don't want to go to sleep yet. You want to watch TV with me?" Gregory asked and put his chopstick inside the carton pack and into the trash bin. Christophe shook his head and answered him:

"Naah, I'd like to move around a bit more. My legs are steell steeff."

Gregory thought about what he had said and his face lighted.

"I know what we could do. Just wait a moment here!" He rushed out of the kitchen rummaging through the closet next to it. Christophe waited for him obediently, puzzled by what his dearest had in mind. Soon enough Gregory came back with a pack of small candles and a lighter, waving at him to follow into their living-room. He scattered the candles around the room on tables and candelabras. Christophe watched him from the doorframe, amused by his enthusiastic behaviour. When Gregory was ready with illuminating the room with the candles, creating a very romantic atmosphere, he added more of it as he turned on a CD-player in the corner. Some classical music started to flow out of the speakers, quietly but audible. Gregory stood in the middle of the room and expanded his arms into an inviting posture. Christophe came up to him, still quite confused by what he was expected to do. When he was standing just one foot away, Gregory wrapped his arms around Tophe's neck and pulled him closer. Christophe stood still, his chest rising against Gregory's, feeling the heartbeat and warmth of his lover. Gregory chuckled quietly and started to swing his hips with the music.

"You want me to dance wiz you?" Christophe said, finally getting where Gregory was hitting at.

"Mm-hmm..." came the answer." Ask me."

"Ask you what?" Christophe asked in turn. He had fallen from that one. Gregory beamed at him and cleared:

"Ask me to dance with you." Christophe raised his eyebrow and laughed. His little canary really was something else.

"Fine. Would you like to dance with me?" he asked, raising his left hand gentlemanly.

"Yes", Gregory giggled and took the hand, placing the other one on Tophe's shoulder, "I'd love to."

The song changed to Ave Maria when they began, Christophe recognized it. Gregory loved the song and hummed to it even now, taking slow steps with him. They swayed evenly, not in a rush and enjoying themselves. Gregory put his head against Christophe's right shoulder, listening to the heartbeat at the same time as the music. Christophe looked down at his face, seeing he had closed his eyes. He kissed his forehead and kept on leading him with the music, in a small circle. No words passed between them, none were needed. They held onto each other, searching the other's warmth. The shadows danced around with their movements, having their own fun. Christophe watched as the light from the candles shined in Gregory's golden locks. They were soft, almost as if made from the finest silk threads, making an angelic crown around his soft features. Gregory stayed oblivious to this observation, too wrapped in his own thoughts to notice the stare. The song changed quickly in Gregory's opinion, but didn't let it disturb his meditative state. Christophe took care that they still stayed on the rhythm of Moonlight Sonata, even if Gregory paid no more attention to the music flowing from the speakers. He let his favourite sound fill his head: Christophe's heartbeat seemed pulse through his skin into his brain, filling him with special kind of euphoria. Knowing that Christophe was alive, well and right there with him made him happier than anything in the world. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard and probably would ever hear.

"What are you zeenkeeng about, my love?" Christophe broke through his thoughts with his voice that was hoarse from smoking. Gregory hummed against his shirt and mumbled in it:

"You." Christophe breathed in Gregory's sweet smell from his hair and smirked:

"What were you zeenkeeng about me?"

Gregory raised his head and opened his eyes groggily. He stared into Christophe's eyes only five centimetres upwards.

"How beautiful your heartbeat is. I love it more than any sound on the earth... I love you more than anything", he ended, serious but still merry. Christophe leaned towards him and whispered:

"I love you too." He kissed Gregory on the lips, as gently as he could. Gregory felt a quiet whimper coming through his lips, caused by the sudden urge that rose deep inside of him. Vivaldi's Winter of Four Seasons' violins started to play behind them when Christophe snaked his arms around the slim waist, caressing over the lower back. Gregory licked his lower lip slowly, savouring the faint taste of cigarettes. He ran his fingers through Christophe's hair, tracing the scalp with his fingertips. Christophe took a firm grip on him and raised him from the ground. They grasped onto each other and Christophe stumbled to the couch. He put Gregory onto it and laid on top of him, holding himself up on his knees. Gregory placed small kisses to across his face, but slowed down. Christophe opened his eyes, in a hazy look, watching Gregory open his mouth:

"We shouldn't. We're both tired and we should go to sleep. I know you'll get frustrated, so do I, but we really shouldn't tire ourselves more." Christophe gave him a desperate look but Gregory shook his head. Christophe sighed deep but cuddled closer to Gregory's torso. Gregory hummed and petted his back. Christophe purred to his chest and pushed his head against it. Gregory's heartbeat pounded in his ear, and Christophe understood what he had meant by the earlier comment. It truly was a soothing sound, rhythmical, thu-bump, thu-bump, thu-bump, telling tale of life. Christophe turned his head, covering his face to the warm, soft tummy and said quietly:

"Let's go to bed."

Gregory hummed as a response and squeezed Christophe's head against his belly quickly, making a sudden run towards the stairs. Christophe - baffled - stared after him but decided to be the responsible one this time and blew out the candles, turned the music off and shut the lights. After he had made sure the door was locked, he climbed the stairs up, into their bedroom to find Gregory already brushing his teeth, with extra-speed. He himself did his evening activities in normal speed, not quite getting what Gregory was suddenly rushing. He watched the blond jumping out of the bathroom back to the bedroom, taking his pants off at the same time. Shaking his head, amused Christophe washed his face and brushed his teeth, combing his tousled hair backwards, out of his face. When he got himself out of the bathroom as well, he glanced at Gregory who was sitting in the bed, dressed in his nightclothes. Christophe took his sweet time changing his attire for the night, feeling the stare on his back. He turned off the lights and walked softly to the bed, next to Gregory.

"What was zat about?" he asked, still not understanding the meaning of Gregory's change in behaviour. He could almost see the wide grin in the darkness, and lowered himself to lie on the mattress. Gregory leaned over him and whispered into his ear:

"I just hated the idea of turning off the lights. Honestly, this bed hates me; I always somehow kick my foot onto something, no matter what."

Christophe chuckled lowly, wrapping his arm around Gregory's neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Gregory could feel the smile on Christophe's lips when they parted, his own lips lightly curved too. He settled himself beside Christophe, his leg over Christophe's leg, hand stretched over his stomach and his head on top of his chest, listening to the heartbeat again. Christophe's hand stroked his curls slowly, kissing them and finally wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Christophe let his eyelids close and relaxed himself on the cozy cushions of their bed, thanking God for the only time in his life, for his sometimes fucked up, but right now extremely happy life with Gregory. Gregory smiled a cocky grin in his sleep, as if knowing about the thought.

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><p><strong>The respective author's note: <strong>Hello, meet my biggest thing ever. Seriously, I count this as even bigger and _better_ than SWFM (Which isn't hard...). I wanted to write something non-smut, romantic nonsense without any exact plot. I feel like that the second I publish this, I feel like I should have written something differently, added something somewhere, not written that, should have noticed that, blahblahblah... Never perfect. Actually nothing is but at least it could be satisfying. I tried to do all kinds of expandings, but... What the hell do you write in a ONESHOT with NO SMUT in it? It should have been longer, I'd be happier with 7000 words. I can't... Keep.. Going... Fuuuuu-

Try to get it into your thick skulls, will you? I do **not** want to see 80 visits and one review. It makes me feel pathetic, worthless, dirty pile of shit, that writes only for her own joy and gets to be the cause of: "What the fuck kinda shit did I just read, this is the worst!"

Yes, I wrote the accent. Some people hate it, some people love it, everyone cannot be happy. If you still want to read the story, but can't because of the accent is making you insane, send me a message with your email-address and I'll send you the no-accent version.

And for those who wonder about the accent and how to read it: th = z & i = ee when i is not pronounced _ai_ as in **life**, but as _i_ as in **live. **My great examples... And in SP Tophe pronounces h's actually, even though he shouldn't. So that's why they're there.

So R&R, tell me if it should be just one or does someone actually want me to do more of this shit, and if you have any ideas what they could be doing. I'm no psychic and can't tell what you think if you don't tell me. **I don't bite, or kill, or bitch at you if you review!**

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><p><strong>Rambling:<strong>

I wanna experience something like that too... Sorry if the delivery-thingy doesn't sound... _real._ I haven't ever, **ever,** ordered something home. No pizza, nothing. That's how we roll in Finland! Or at least my family does...

I have now got my informant in "How does a man's body work and what do we think?" He's bisexual, gay enough for me, and hopefully helps me to write more realistic stuff. Thanks KD in advance ;D

I listened to those classical songs. My favourites so far.

Thank you, can't say I love you, all my love has gone to Gregory-of-Yardale & Fucking Selen for their Gregory & Mole -cosplay. Gotta love those guys.


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